Coatbridge men's steamy Highland holiday in hot tub heaven Glen Clova

The Herald Scotland

18-05-2025

Glen Clova Hotel and LodgesCadam Lodge awaited our presence. One of our destination Glen Clova Hotel's larger abodes, this spacious adult playhut was pleasingly minimalist and tasteful, albeit with drawers full of Gino D'Acampo kitchenware. Despite his vanishing act from TV, the cheeky chappie's cultural omnipresence endures.
An old-school amoral crustacean himself, Bennie had no qualms about wrapping his sweaty hands around Gino's glistening utensils in this plush abode, and was soon attempting to rearrange our internal architecture with a beef chili hotter than the welcome that awaits the cancelled Italian in hell.
(Image: Cadam Lodge's spacious interior) Cooling down with a couple of cans of medicinal Tennents lager, another bubbling pot then awaited us in the form of Cadam's hot tub which boasted a full panoramic view of the glen's flora and fauna.
As slippery warm foam rippled over, under and around the islands of flesh formed by our near-naked bodies, neither Bennie or I choose to formally address the homoerotic overtones of our current scenario.
Quelling any awkwardness by simply lowering our voices an octave, we grunted in a manly manner about manly things, how surfactants in the water contribute to bubble formation by reducing surface tension and trapping air – and also how the water jets that provide the intense massage are powered by a dedicated blower.
Certainly, our middle-aged shoulder and back pain began to evaporate, hypertension techno heartrates eased their tempo to a more languid reggae rhythm and pinball-esque manic thought patterns were allayed with deep ingestions of fresh mountain air, the Highlands' own natural benzodiazepine.
Bliss. Until Bennie stood up so quickly – instantaneously – that it was like watching Neo in The Matrix.
The water soon caught up with his movement, sending floods of chlorinated man stew cascading over the edges of the tub. His mouth then twisted cruelly, unleashing a torrent of toxic Anglo-Saxon exclamations.
I raised a wee Roger Moore-esque eyebrow as Bennie then thrust his hand into his Bermuda shorts pocket. What, I wondered, was he reaching into his bloomers to show me? To my surprise – and relief – he held a dripping, dead mobile phone aloft, the device having blooped its last bleep in his submerged pocket.
Following another brutal assault on the Queen's English that sent the birds fleeing from their branches, Bennie let out a mournful wail, I imagine reminiscent of the Creator's final requiem for the universe as the last star in the last galaxy blinks out of existence.
(Image: Bennie pictured seconds before realising his phone was in his pocket) Warm welcome
HOT tubs and home-made chili are not the only things emanating warmth at Glen Clova. It also radiates from the people who live and work there.
From the moment Bennie and I arrived, we were instantly attuned to the vibration of Highland hospitality emanating from the wonderful Glen Clova team – Mhairi, Jenny, Angus, Khali, Tegan, Caiden and Elise amongst others – whose collective synergy was that of a highly amenable yet singular Scottish sitcom family. Hospitality here isn't transactional; it's tribal. You're not a guest. You're temporarily part of the family.
Nowhere is this more obvious than at the dining table. While demolishing a generously-filled steak pie (succulent Angus beef that I was assured was locally-sourced. I could probably see its relatives out the window) we struck up a conversation with a couple at the next table.
'We come here four times a year,' they smiled in unison, both radiant with the satisfied glow of folk who undoubtedly got their vegetables as children and had invested their enviable inheritance in enough dubious stocks to embrace semi-retirement while still youthful enough to enjoy it. Fair play.
With all food hunted locally where possible (pheasants and deer are both in plentiful supply) and boasting a surprisingly inventive menu, Glen Clova's gastronomy manages the rare feat of being both comfortingly traditional and slyly modern.
The venison pakora alone is worth the trip – delicately spiced, rich, succulent and served with a distinctive dip that was a fusion of both India and Inverness. The culinary theme was clear: rootsy generosity with casual flair.
The hospitable and homely Climbers Bar pours a fine pint too – or glass of locally-produced gin – and is often packed with walkers and guests, who have the choice of staying over inside the hotel itself, its nine luxury lodges or three elegant houses, all with private hot tubs and some even with saunas.
(Image: Climber's Bar) Originally dating from the 1850s, Glen Clova has been a vital stop-off for cyclists, ramblers and hillwalkers for many decades – and little wonder, being located just a few minutes walk from the River South Esk, within easy drive of multiple golf courses and actual civilisation in nearby Forfar.
As a child of the central belt, I admit the only Glen I was ever familiar with was Glen Michael's Cavalcade – a low-budget kids TV Dahliseque fever dream. Yet here was a glen of such cinematic scale it made even childhood memories, where the sun is always shining and goalposts are made of jumpers, look grayscale by comparison.
The glen itself is a broad, glacier-hewn sweep of neon green, flanked by stoic hills and brushed with a glowing, near-ethereal purple heather-haze. It's shaped not just by the land but by time: handiwork of the last Ice Age terraforming a sanctuary that's both dramatic and comforting.
It's also a place where you can do as much or as little as you like. Those inclined towards physical exertion rather than hot tub dwelling will find mountain trails like Mayar and Driesh, routes that climb from the valley floor to cloud-brushed summits.
(Image: The stunning surrounds of Glen Clova) For bloodthirsty types, there's fly-fishing on the River South Esk, stalking and deer safaris and enough wildlife to make you reach for your binoculars like a Victorian naturalist or high-rise flat voyeur.
Hikes range from gentle lochside ambles to soul-destroying scrambles up Munro summits. There's also fishing, shooting, cycling, shooting, birdwatching, shooting or simply sitting somewhere scenic while pretending to read a book you have no intention of finishing. And shooting.
But even if you never leave your lodge, you'll likely achieve some sort of communion with nature at Glen Clova – and perhaps find peace with any anxieties caused by the realisation we are all spinning around a nuclear furnace on a wee stone in the middle of infinity.
Heavenly weddings
GIVEN its location and the hospitality on offer, it's little wonder this picture-perfect resort is also fast becoming one of Scotland's best-kept secrets for hosting weddings – but not for long, I suspect.
At the time of our visit, lavish yet rootsy new venue The Barn was under construction. Think rustic grandeur with twinkling lights, Highland charm and a location so heavenly that there's a chance God himself might pop down and carry out the service. Events of up to 120 guests are available, however smaller nuptials are also possible.
For those seeking a more traditional service to guarantee God's permission to spend eternity together in a fluffy-clouded paradise, there's even a picture-perfect wee church – Clove Kirk – on the estate grounds, an Insta-ready venue with enough gravestones scattered around to remind guests to enjoy themselves as it's later than they think.
(Image: Glen Clova is a perfect wedding venue)
As majestic as Glen Clova is, there are no phone shops. So, an increasingly cranky Bennie suggested we venture into the nearby town of Forfar to abate his symptoms of technological cold turkey.
Certainly, life happens at a deliberate pace in this ancient marketplace town yet the streets were bustling and liberally strewn with a selection of unique independent retailers – and a Costa. It wasn't New York, but undoubtedly provided a perfect counterpoint to the solitude of the glen.
Whether staying at Glen Clova or exploring the charms of nearby towns, visitors will never be at a loss for activities whether they are thermos-clasping serious ramblers or the sort of walker who likes to intersperse their steps with pints of lager at welcoming hostelries.
(Image: Bill is pictured at the Bon Scott statue in Kirriemuir) Exploration beyond the towns rewards curiosity however and there's countless areas of breathtaking natural beauty to discover – such as Corrie Fee with its dramatic cliffs and cascading waterfalls – that won't show up on Google Maps.
With apologies to J.M. Barrie, it's really not so unusual that Bon Scott sprang from this soil and became its most famous export. Just like the AC/DC legend, this unique region loudly and proudly earns its place in the spotlight and with the Highlands' spectacular geology turned up to eleven in these tranquil surrounds, even the sound of silence can completely rock your world.
www.clova.com